Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1005

Chapter 1005: Chapter 1005

The wives no longer needed to hunt. The island fed them. It clothed them in silken moss and crystalline threads. It watched and learned and grew. One evening, as the sun dipped low and the air turned gold, a faint rumble stirred beneath the earth, not violent, but purposeful. Jude stood at the river’s edge and watched as the water split, parting just enough to reveal a stone path descending beneath.

Without hesitation, he followed it. The path led to a chamber of glowing blue stone, carved with symbols that pulsed gently at his approach. At the center was a mirror. Not glass, but liquid, suspended in an arch of root and light. When he looked into it, he saw not his reflection, but another version of himself, standing atop the volcano, eyes burning with power, the island aflame. Then it shifted, showing a him that walked alone, aged and broken, the island overgrown and hollow.

Then again, another: him and the twelve, laughing in a city of song. The mirror asked nothing. It only showed what could be. Jude reached out and touched its surface. The visions faded. And for a moment, he felt the island’s mind brush his own, not as a master or servant, but as a partner. He returned in silence. That night, when they gathered, he spoke quietly. "There are many futures still unwritten. The island doesn’t demand one over the other. It just wants us to choose." "Then we choose joy," Sophie said. "We choose love," said Natalie. "We choose wisdom," said Grace. "We choose life," Jude said, and the words sealed something sacred between them. They didn’t know how much time they had before someone, or something, arrived from beyond. But they were no longer afraid. The island had become a garden, and they had become its soul. The Keepers of something eternal. Something blooming. Something alive.

Jude woke with the taste of wind and salt on his tongue, the scent of something unfamiliar hanging in the dawn air. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the soft, glowing ceiling of the living shelter, listening. It wasn’t birdsong or rustling leaves that stirred him, it was silence, too perfect, too still. Carefully, he sat up and found that Grace wasn’t beside him. Neither were Lucy or Stella, who had fallen asleep nearby. That wasn’t unusual in itself, they often rose early to tend to the garden or visit the Hall of Memory, but something in his chest itched. It was subtle, an instinct. The kind that had kept him alive through every twist of this island’s strange seasons. He stepped out into the early light. The air shimmered faintly, and his breath caught, not in fear, but awe. The entire eastern horizon was tinged with violet, the sky a shade he had never seen before. And beneath it, far beyond the treetops, a shape hovered on the sea. Jude’s heart stuttered. A ship. No, not a ship, an object. A floating structure, not made of wood or sails but of bone-white panels and glass domes, drifting silently toward the shore. The water parted gently ahead of it, as though the ocean itself had agreed to make way. He turned and called for the others, his voice sharp and loud, cutting through the morning like a blade. Within minutes, all twelve wives were gathered around him, some still blinking sleep from their eyes, others clutching hastily donned garments spun from moss and light-thread. "Look," he said, pointing. They followed his gaze. A wave of stillness passed through them. Then Scarlet whispered, "What is that?" "I don’t know," Jude replied. "But it’s not of the island." "Should we run?" Zoey asked. "Hide?" "No," Jude said. "We face it." They moved quickly, organizing without panic, each of them falling into the roles they had honed over years of survival. Serena and Layla fetched weapons, not crude tools anymore, but elegant, living blades the island had gifted them. Rose and Susan wove spells into the garden paths to protect their home. Sophie and Emma climbed to the observation hill to keep watch. Jude stood at the edge of the beach, waiting. The object reached the shore without a sound. It hovered just above the sand, suspended by invisible forces, casting a long shadow over the surf. A hiss escaped from its side, and a seam split down the middle. A ramp extended. And then, feet. Human feet. One pair. Then another. And another. Three figures emerged, tall and robed, their faces hidden beneath translucent veils. They walked with precision, but not aggression. Jude didn’t move. Neither did his wives, who stood in formation behind him, forming a loose arc of silent defense. The lead figure stopped several paces away. Its voice was neither male nor female, smooth, melodic, and carefully controlled. "We come in peace. We followed the pulse." Jude frowned. "What pulse?" "The one released from the mountain’s core," the figure said. "It echoed through the sky-veil. We traced it here." "Where are you from?" Jude asked. The figure turned its head slightly, as though considering. "Another Earth. One that fractured. One where the gods never fell silent, but became cruel." "And what do you want from us?" Jude said. The figure stepped forward slowly and pulled back its veil. The face beneath was pale, angular, marked with faint lines that glowed softly in the light, like roots under skin. Its eyes were wide, reflective, not quite human. "We seek sanctuary. Permission to witness. To learn how your island lives. We were taught that this world was lost. But it sings." The other two figures removed their veils too. They were different, one older, one younger, all with the same strange eyes. Jude glanced back at his wives. Natalie gave the smallest nod. So did Susan. He took a breath. "Then you may stay. But you will not control. You will not harm. You will be watched." The figure bowed. "Agreed." The floating vessel receded slightly, anchoring itself in the shallow waters, becoming still.